Shadow of the Day
by Marie Elaine Cullen
Summary: Alex has been adopted. No, seriously. And his new guardian is not Eagle, Wolf, Snake, or Ben. In fact, his new guardian has never had anything to do with MI6 or any other secretive agency. His guardian is NORMAL...this should be interesting...
1. Chapter 1

**This idea is quite random. I was reading one of the c****liché 'Alex goes to live with a member of the SAS or MI6' fanfics, and I wondered 'what would happen if he went to live with someone who's actually semi-normal?' Thus, this idea was born. I apologize if the writing is horrible, as I wrote this in somewhat of a rush. **

**Disclaimer: Alex Rider will belong to me when Harry Potter swoops down on his broomstick and conjures up a college scholarship for me… In other words, never.**

* * *

Alex sat in a dimly lit room with bright walls that should've been cheerful, but instead looked like the decorators had tried too hard. A man in a suit sat in front of him, looking uncomfortable with the teen's steely gaze. He had introduced himself as a George Windelle. The conversation had gone something like the following:

George: "Hello, I'm George Windelle, your social worker."

Alex: "…"

George: "And you must be Alex Rider!" At this point, he had stuck out a hand for Alex to shake.

Alex: "…"

George: "We're going to do our best to put you with a good family."

Alex: "…"

And that brings us to our current setting: Alex glaring, and Georgie the guy with very bad taste in suits sitting at his desk uncomfortably.

George cleared his throat. "Since you're 15, we thought that you might like to meet the possible families we could put you with."

"Why are you telling me this if you've got it all figured out?"

George looked surprised that the brooding boy in front of him had spoken. "We just thought that you might like to be involved in the process…"

A sharp chuckle came from the teen. "If you really cared anything about me, I'd be in my own house, emancipated."

George looked uncomfortable, and he tugged at his tie a bit nervously as he answered. "The standard age for emancipation is 16 years old…"

Alex glared "I've lost my whole family, have no living relatives, and you're saying that I'm a year younger then the standard age for emancipation?"

"I'm sorry, but it's not our decision to make."

"No, it is. You just want me to feel powerless and like I can't do anything about my current situation. I don't feel like that, but I know you're not changing your mind anytime soon."

George fidgeted uneasily. "I can't stop you from thinking like that, but I do want you to know that that was not our intention. I do need to know if you want to meet the families."

Alex slumped back in his chair, resigned. "Fine. I suppose I do want some choice. I'll meet the families."

George stood up quickly, so the teenager sitting in front of him wouldn't have time to change his mind. "Sounds good. The first family will be here in five minutes."

After the weirdly cheerful man had left the room, Alex sighed. The position in which they had been in (Alex sitting in a chair, George sitting at the desk), had been dreadfully reminiscent of Blunt's office.

The first thought of Blunt made Alex's jaw clench, and his hands ball into fists. He remembered the man's well, bluntness when discussing Jack. Apparently when Blunt needed a favor, it was expected that Alex had to do it, but when one simple request was made to Blunt, it was ignored.

The teen seethed with anger, glaring at the floor.

He looked up to the door as it opened. A quite plump woman came in, tugging a twiggy looking man, both with black hair.

"Hello, I'm Jeanette McCarthy, and this is Dean, we just wanted to talk to you, and get to know you." The woman introduced herself.

Alex blinked coolly.

"Right, so er…what's your name?" She asked, a little unnerved by the teen.

"Alex."

"Are there any sports you like to play?"

"Football."

"So what happened to make you come here?" The woman asked without thinking.

She flinched as the boy's eyes flared up. "Why do you _think_ I'm here?"

The man, Dean, spoke up. "We know you haven't had the best life…"

"Hey! Look at the time! It just seemed to fly! Now if you don't mind, I have to go to the bathroom." Alex stood up abruptly and left the room. He smiled to himself as he walked through the doorway.

Jeanette and Dean seemed nice enough, but definitely not the type of people he wanted as temporary guardians…he supposed it wasn't their fault… he didn't really want _anyone_ as a guardian now that Jack was…gone…

He mentally slapped himself. Alex had realized long ago that if he thought of her, no matter how insignificant the thought seemed, he would have to suffer through multiple nightmares the following night.

Nightmares that wouldn't stop, nightmares that made him wake up in a cold damp sweat.

Alex banged his head against the wall. What was _happening _to him? Was his mind aware that he was _not_ a fucking poet? Ah yes, Alex Rider, poet spy extraordinaire….something more impossible then Alan Blunt showing up to work in a pink tutu…

Well, maybe not that impossible….

Lost in his bizarre thoughts, he found himself in front of the elevator. Smirking to himself, Alex stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor.

Smiling at a young woman who boarded the elevator, he waited patiently for the little _ding_ that signaled his arrival.

When it came, he exited the building and started walking to the nearest Tube station.

* * *

The phone.

The phone was ringing.

The phone was ringing at 5:30 AM.

The phone was ringing at 5:30 AM on a _Saturday._

Cursing whoever had invented telemarketers, Alex picked up the phone, ready to hang up the second he heard 'Hello! You're qualified for a free consultation for blah blah blah…', instead, he heard a voice clear their throat.

"Er, hello?" Alex asked uncertainly.

"Uh…hi, um… Can I talk to John Rider?" A male voice asked.

Alex blinked back his shock, sitting up and looking at the phone to see that the number was one he didn't recognize. "Umm…John Rider has been dead for fourteen years." He said slowly.

"What? John's dead? …Guess I can't give him his wedding invitation, huh?"

"Uh, guess not."

"So, if John's dead, who's this?" the voice asked.

"I'm Alex. John's son."

"JOHN GOT MARRIED?" The voice yelled.

Alex winced, holding the phone far away from his ear. "Uh, yeah…"

"Why haven't I met the woman who made the famous John Rider settle down?"

The teenager raised an eyebrow, just who was this guy? "Probably because she's dead too."

"Wow, so you're an orphan?"

"Fifty points to the man who stated the obvious!" Alex said with biting sarcasm. "Wait, so who are you?"

"I'm Steve…I uh, I went to college with John." The man evidently named Steve said.

"…Well, congratulations on getting married I suppose… Wait, if you went to school with my dad, aren't you a little old to get married just now?"

"It's not my first ballgame, I've been married once before…" Steve said.

"Oh…" Alex said awkwardly.

"Listen," Steve started. "maybe we should meet up sometime? I'd love to hear about how my friend settled down."

"I suppose… If you could tell me about him? I never really knew him…"

Steve agreed, and gave Alex his number, and said to call him for anything.

A few minutes later, Alex stared at the phone.

….Did that just really happen?

* * *

A day later, Alex was sitting in the same chair, in the same falsely cheerful room, glaring at the same man who wore the same type of ugly suit.

"Now, I know you didn't exactly _agree _with the other family, but maybe this one will be different!"

Alex just glared.

"I'm going to send them in now, is that okey dokey?" The social worker said slowly, as if talking to an infant.

The teen stared at him oddly. "That sounds wibbly wobbly wonderful." **(1)**

Apparently, George had no sense of sarcasm. So, he just sent the family in.

* * *

Alex stared at the beaming lady and the glaring guy who looked like he ate a gallon-full of steroids every five minutes.

"I just absolutely _love_ the idea of adopting such a _cute _little kid!"

The teen looked down at himself, and then back up at the lady in slight confusion. He was neither cute, not a little kid.

"Have we introduced ourselves? I don't think we have! I'm Rachel, and this is Rob!"

Rob's hand twitched. Alex stared at him, a bit frightened.

"So, let's get to know each other a bit!" Rachel, the cheery blonde exclaimed. "My favorite animal is a bunny, what about you?"

Alex blinked. "Uh…A fox I suppose…"

"Oooooh! Foxes are so _cute_! My least favorite is a shark!"

After a moment of silence, Rachel motioned for Alex to answer.

"A crocodile."

"I just _adore_ skiing!"

The corner of Alex's mouth twitched as he remembered Point Blanc. "Surfing is fun, I suppose." Of course, that's only if there's no Chinese Triad absolutely focused on killing you.

"I absolutely _love _Venice, Italy."

Alex snorted. Of course she'd pick Italy… "I don't really have a favorite city."

"Nonsense! Everyone has one!"

"…San Francisco then…"

"I've never been there!"

The conversation went on and on, and soon Alex began to slowly become a bit more optimistic. Maybe this family would be different…

"My favorite singer is Damian Cray, I can't believe all the things they tried to say about him! He was certainly not a killer! The press just _loves_ insulting dead people! If people could be half as honest and noble as he was, the world would be a much better place!"

Alex's eye twitched. But he let it go, after all, everyone is entitled to their own opinion…

"Do you remember that hotel in space? Angel Ark, or Ark Angel or something… I couldn't believe it when the authorities destroyed it, calling it an International Security Compromise or something… I mean, everyone knows it was just a conspiracy so that the private sector of space travel couldn't be increased!"

Let. It. Go.

Oblivious to Alex's uncomfortable position, the blonde prattled on. "And you know what I _really_ hate? The fact that millions of pounds a year are spent on helping those refugees, and illegal immigrants, and oh my gosh, don't even get me started on those pesky Snakeheads!"

At this Alex's jaw clenched as he remembered the dozens of people hiding out in crates for days on end, as it was their only chance at a better life.

"And do you know how much money a year is spent on the military sectors of our government? Billions! They can't even kill all the terrorists, and we're giving them billions of dollars!"

That was the last straw. His father, his uncle, hell, even his _mother_ (in an indirect way) had given their lives for the fight against terrorists! Not to mention all _he_ had personally done! Alex stood up, placed his hands on the table that separated the couple and him, and glared. "There are hundreds of brave men and women who put their life on the line each day and here you are complaining about how much the government decides to give them? I'm leaving. You're a nice couple and all, but I would be ashamed if I got adopted by people who don't support courage."

The boy was in the elevator by the time the couple blinked. He pushed the ground button floor, and waited for it to get going, but just when it seemed it had started up, a hand stopped the doors from closing.

Alex looked up to see Rob, the silent muscled man who had the most closeminded girlfriend/wife/fiancée Alex had ever met.

"Hey kid, I just wanted to say I wish you the best of luck."

Alex blinked back his shock. "What?"

"Well, someone who stands up for the army can't be all bad, so I'm just hoping you get into a good home…" Rob shrugged sheepishly and Alex smiled slightly.

"Thanks."

And then it was over.

Alex sighed, leaning against the door. It was nice to see that Rob could talk and all, but sometimes he wondered if he would ever get adopted. Not that he wanted to or anything, but if he didn't get a guardian within three months, the government would put him into an orphanage, and his house would get taken away.

…the other option was too terrible to think of.

* * *

**(1): Stolen from 'Half Moon Investigations' by Eoin Colfer :)**

**AN: Uh... Hi :) Before you ask, I don't have much of a plan for this story, so I would like some feedback. Where do you want it to go? What do you want to happen? **

**And perhaps the most important question of all:**

**What is your favorite food?**

**Randomly Yours,**

**-Marie**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I'm SO sorry for not updating sooner... I have a bunch of valid excuses, but I'm sure you want me to shut up and get to the chapter, so here goes.**

**Disclaimer: ….I've run out of wittiness… I'm sorry, I just have to say it straight… I don't own Alex Rider… Anthony Horowitz does….**

**Shadows that Hide**

**Chapter 2**

**An Impromptu AA Meeting**

* * *

Alex sighed as he stepped slowly toward his house. Not home. Just a house. '_Just a house that you might lose if something good doesn't happen quickly…' _His subconscious lectured him.

He groaned. How crazy was he if he relied on his subconscious to remind him of things? '_Very very crazy'_ his subconscious informed him. Alex ran up the steps to his room, and began banging his head against the wall, hoping to drive the craziness out.

He stopped a few minutes later, when he had already worked himself up to a blinding headache. As he lay on the bed, exhausted with a very sore head, his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hello, Alex, it's George Windelle, your social worker."

"Uh…This isn't Alex…" He lied, trying to think of a way to hang up the phone without being overly rude so he would still have a say in his future "family".

"Who am I speaking to then?"

"Fred…Weasley."

"Alex, do you really think I haven't read Harry Potter?"

"Oi! JK Rowling stole my name! It's not my fault she wanted the best name in the universe!" Alex tried to speak in a slightly different voice, while mentally he was banging his head against the wall again. Fred Weasley? Really? Why didn't he just say Harry Potter and get it over with!

"So your name is really Fred Weasley?"

"Well, _yeah_, that's what I just said!"

"You don't happen to have a brother named George…do you?"

"Nah, his name is Stephan."

"That's…great… Uh, listen, do you know where Alex is?"

"Umm… I was just looking for him. Maybe he's gone on a date or something?"

"Psh, Alex? I'd be surprised if girls even looked twice at him."

Alex gaped at the phone. WHAT? "I'll have you know Alex has a girlfriend!" He yelled indignantly. Had Georgie just insulted him?

"Then why is he on a date?"

"Because he's on a date with his girlfriend!"

"All right then, what's his girlfriends name?"

"Uh… Ashley Narrie I think… I don't know, I don't really talk to her much." Alex said, struggling not to laugh at the very queer situation.

"Oh really? How interesting."

"Uh… Mr. Windelle, maybe you should just call again tomorrow?"

"Why tomorrow?" George's voice was suspicious now.

"Because usually after dinner, they go back to Ashley's house for….er….dessert."

"Oh…_OH!_ All right then, I'll call tomorrow. Thank you very much Fred. Goodbye." And with that the social worker hung up.

Alex sighed with relief.

"Very interesting conversation you had there…" A voice chuckled from behind him.

"I know, wasn't it?" Alex turned around smirking at Tom, who had sat down at his desk chair in the middle of the phone conversation.

Tom stretched lazily. "So, why did good ol' Georgie call?"

"Ugh… I bet it has something to do with a 'quite promising and very loving family'!"

"Huh. I don't see why you can't just move in with me. I mean, sure my family might kill you with an overdose of yelling and throwing things, but it all just adds to the excitement!" Tom said brightly.

Alex stared at him. "Yeah… When you put it like that, I think I'm better off with the happy family from hell…"

"You're no fun…"

"On the contrary, Fred Weasley is all about fun."

"Oh really? Prove it!" Tom challenged.

Alex smirked, and grabbed a large chopping board the size of a small table from the kitchen. He walked up the stairs and laid the chopping board onto the stairs.

Tom looked at him in confusion. Just what was Alex doing? Then he grinned as Alex jumped onto the board and bumped down the stairs, sliding at the bottom before finally coming to a stop right in front of the front door.

"I want to try! I want to try!" Tom yelled with all the enthusiasm of a small child.

Alex rolled his eyes and handed Tom the board. The smaller boy immediately ran up the stairs and jumped onto the board. He bumped down the stairs, coming to a stop right in front of Alex. The boy ran right back up the stairs and backed up for a running start.

The doorbell rang and Alex opened the door to see a middle aged man standing there nervously. A few seconds later, the man was on the ground, wincing in pain, while Tom grinned, as he sat on top of him.

"Sorry about that… Didn't mean to hurt you. But have you ever tried riding down the stairs? It's _so _much fun!" The small boy apologized.

"Uh… Yeah, actually I have. I agree… Who are you?" The man asked.

Alex narrowed his eyes. The voice sounded familiar. "Steve?"

"Yeah. You must be Alex."

"We talked on the phone. He was friends with my dad." The teen said, shoving his hands into his pockets while answering Tom's questioning look.

Steve pointed to the boy sitting on him. "So, back to my question. Who's this?"

"This is Tom, my friend, who was just going home." The glare Alex sent to Tom instantly silenced any protests, and soon Tom was out the door.

Alex offered the older man something to drink while they sat down at the kitchen table. They sat awkwardly, each drinking their water quietly.

"So…" Alex started. "Why'd you come? I mean, if you wanted to talk to me, you could've just called."

Steve shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood… Wanted to see how you were… And I had a few questions."

"Like?"

"If you don't mind me asking, who takes care of you? I mean, you're an orphan, right?"

"Yeah. I'm an orphan. My uncle Ian used to take care of me, after he died our housekeeper Jack took care of me for a while… She died too."

Steve whistled. "Boy, you just have the worst luck."

Alex smirked. "You don't know the half of it."

"So who's taking care of you now?"

"Technically, my social worker… But since I'm old enough, he agreed to let me live in the house for three months. By that time, I'm either adopted by one of the families he's found me, or I go to an orphanage and the bank owns my house…"

"Wish I could say I'd adopt you… Sorry, but I'm not sure if my fiancée would like that very much, and I don't want to mess up our marriage before its even started…"

Alex shrugged. "To be honest, I never even considered the option. Don't worry about it."

They talked for a while, Steve telling Alex about his and John's adventures in college. There were many entertaining stories, a prank involving a fountain, water-skiing on a leech-infested lake… The tales went on and on.

Around half an hour later, Steve checked his watch and realized that he had to go. He informed Alex that if he ever needed a place to stay for a night, just to call him, and Alex thanked him.

When the door had shut, and the house was quiet, Alex walked upstairs and fell onto the bed, absolutely exhausted from the day's events.

He instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Alex awoke several hours later to his phone buzzing obnoxiously beside him.

He picked it up and growled out an unpleasant 'hello'.

Within five minutes, he had begun to wish that he had just continued sleeping. Georgie the Super-Social-Worker-Extraordinaire had found another family.

Alex shrugged on his coat and walked slowly to the Tube, all the while dreading the meeting.

About half an hour later, he sat in the same uncomfortable chair, facing yet another family.

The man's name was Thomas, and his wife's was Abigail. They were looking to adopt because one of them was sterile…..In other words, during the whole explanation Alex had completely and utterly zoned out.

Thomas was a tall, fairly well built man with fair hair, while Abigail was a petite woman with light brown hair, and dark bags under her eyes.

They sat in complete silence for a few minutes.

"Uh… Well, isn't this awkward!" Thomas said grimly.

Alex and Abigail nodded their agreement.

"Well, if the Alcoholics Anonymous people can do it, so can we!" Thomas exclaimed and proceeded to stand up. "My name is Thomas Evergreen and I am two hours sober!"

He answered his wife's raised eyebrow with a "What? Whiskey helps calm the nerves!"

Alex smiled at the whole exchange.

The man then proceeded. "I am thirty one years old and I am a banker! Though I am trying to get a more exciting job…"

Alex flinched at the banker part.

"Are you okay?" Abigail asked, noticing his momentarial sign of weakness.

"I'm fine… My uncle worked at a bank." He explained.

"Oh….." Thomas sighed. "Well, I'm sorry I said that…Abby's turn!"

'Abby' glared at her husband before standing up slowly. "My name is Abigail Evergreen and my job is putting up with my husband. It's not an easy job, but someone's got to do it!"

She ignored her husbands pout.

Alex grinned before standing up. "My name is Alex Rider and I work at a mechanical shop that my friend's dad owns. I enjoy all extreme sports and making sure that no one messes with my laptop!" He shrugged innocently at the questioning looks. "My friend Tom has a history of making my wallpaper very weird things, and locking them with a password."

They continued talking about random things until George the Social-Worker-Extraordinaire came in. "Is everything going well?" He asked.

"Well, I have managed to put off killing my husband to a later date, so yes. Things are going swimmingly!" Abigail exclaimed.

George left after a few minutes and Thomas suddenly looked very nervous. "Er… Alex, I know you've had a rough life, and you probably want to keep living on your own, but would you like it if we adopted you?"

Alex thought about it for a second, before deciding that the chances of finding a better set of adoptive parents were very slim. "Sure." He answered after a few seconds. "But only if Thomas stops being so annoying!"

Abigail nodded her agreement, both of them ignoring Thomas's protests. "We'll get the papers figured out… In the meantime, could you give us a number we could reach you at?"

Alex gave them his cell and walked away from the building feeling better than he had in months.

He was going to be adopted. By a nice couple. MI6 hadn't bothered him in weeks, Tom had finally learned to stay away from his computer, and his job at the Hale's garage was quite fun.

All was well… for now…

* * *

A while away, in a gray office, sat a gray man at a gray desk, in a gray suit, reading a gray file. He looked up when a woman in a dark blue suit came in.

She wasted no time. "Alex Rider is being adopted."

"And?"

"Should we stop it?"

"No. Let it happen. We have more leverage that way."

Ms. Jones nodded and walked out the gray door.

Blunt returned to his file on the situation in China.

They were not finished with Alex Rider yet.

* * *

Alex stared at the suitcase lying on his bed.

He was moving into Thomas's and Abigail's house tomorrow, and the reality that he would be moving out of the only home he had ever known suddenly set in, and with it, panic.

What if the Evergreens sold his house?

What if the bank took over it?

What if someone burned it down?

What if MI6 started using it as a safe house?

What if Tom moved in and he didn't even know?

What if there was a furniture eating termite infestation?

What if there was a _man_ eating termite infestation?

Alex took a few deep breaths to offset the insane thoughts that were bouncing around his head.

The Evergreens wouldn't sell his house, as they had signed a contract that stated they would do no meddling in his properties or bank accounts.

If the bank (as in, a real bank, not the Royal and General) took over it, he would find the person who had ordered the seizing, and torture them horribly until they gave him the house back. He was sure that MI6 would look the other way for this, after all, he _did_ have a lot of blackmail on all of their operations.

If someone burned the house down, he would find them, and he would help them be recruited to MI6. That was the worst torture he could think of.

If MI6 started using it as a safe house, he would burn it down himself. Let them see just how _safe_ it was.

If Tom moved in, Alex would just demand rent. After all, the Corvette he was fixing up didn't just pay for itself!

If there was a termite infestation of any kind, he would call the exterminators.

Fully reassured that his house would be safe from most everything, he went to the kitchen to cook himself some dinner. His Last Supper… at least in Ian's house. And not the Last as in the Last Supper he would ever eat here, just the Last Supper for now. Alex shook the odd train of thought out of his head before grabbing some pasta from a box and chucking it into a boiling pot of water.

The rest of the day was spent with Alex walking through the various rooms of the house, reminiscing random memories, and making sure that he had packed everything he wanted to take with him to his new life that would last just about three years. After that, he would move back into this house, and find a way to make a living, _without_ MI6.

Alex fell asleep that night with a small smile on his face, though fully aware that he was probably going to have a horrible nightmare that night, and a full-blown panic attack later that week, he was slightly looking forward to moving in with Thomas and Abigail. It would be nice having someone take care of him again…

* * *

Alex blinked at the large brick house surrounded by a white picket fence. "Wow." He said in awe. The Evergreens had failed to mention that they lived in such a large house.

He walked up the steps a bit nervously and knocked on the door, dragging his suitcase behind him.

The door flew open and he was dragged in by Abigail. "Oh thank god you came!" She shouted. "Thomas is watching 300 **(1) **again, and he won't change the channel!"

Alex was dragged into the living room and used as a human shield, behind which Abigail hid. "Thomas! We have a guest and he wants you to change the channel!"

The blonde shield blinked. "…I do?"

"Yes! You do!" Abigail glared at him before turning the glare at her husband. "Now _change the goddamn channel._" She growled, leaving Alex and her husband fearful for their lives.

"Yes ma'am!" Thomas saluted before giving Abigail the remote, which instantly calmed her down as she turned it to a random medical drama.

Thomas made a coo-coo sign, before hurrying away to show Alex his room.

Alex stood in the doorway of the room, uncertain whether or not he was supposed to go in.

Thomas peered at him cautiously. "Is the room okay?" He asked a bit nervously.

The room was more than okay. It was perfect. It was a fairly small room, but there was a desk, a computer, a large bed, a few bookshelves and a closet.

"It's great." Alex said simply, grinning at his adopter.

"I'll leave you to get settled in." Thomas said, leaving after clapping Alex on the back.

Alex stood in the doorway, not daring to enter the room. It felt like if he started to settle in, the situation would become permanent, and Jack's death would become a reality. But what else could he do? He took one slow step, and then another, until he was at the foot of the bed with his suitcase in his hand.

Alex knew what he had to do, in honor of Jack. He slowly climbed onto the bed, and began jumping, testing out the mattress as Jack had done every time she got a new one, or went to a hotel.

After a minute or so of jumping, he stopped and lay down on the bed, content with the softness of the mattress.

He jumped at his loud ringtone. "Hello?" He said into the phone.

"Alex Rider? We'd like you to come down to the Bank tomorrow morning to discuss your current living situation." A polite female voice spoke.

Alex frowned. "Can you pass on a message to Mr. Blunt?"

"Yes. I could."

"Tell him that Alex Rider said to fuck off." He hung up and threw his phone onto the nightstand next to the bed, marveling at the convenience of it.

He tried to remain content with laying on the bed for a few more minutes, but his mind was rushing with the random thoughts that he associated with MI6.

_If I go on another mission, maybe they'll leave me alone… _One part of his mind thought, stupidly. _Or maybe I'll die a horrible, painful death that will leave me wishing that I had never been born. _Another, more sensible part of his mind thought.

Alex groaned at the insanity going on in his head, and decided to explore the house a bit, after all, that was the best part of a new place: exploring. Well, it was the best part as long as you won't be shot repeatedly and/or dissected if you're caught.

He wandered around the house a bit, noticing that the exercise equipment in the basement seemed relatively untouched, but in good condition, to his satisfaction, but slight puzzlement. The Evergreens seemed like they exercised regularly… Alex brushed the thought off, preferring not to worry about something that was not worrying about. He noted that the kitchen was extremely clean, and wondered if that was because Thomas and Abigail were clean people, or if they just ate out a lot.

The whole house seemed to be fairly clean, excluding the bathroom, which had bottles of random things scattered everywhere, including some medicine bottles that Alex was quite curious about, but didn't want to intrude on the Evergreen's privacy, as this was only the first day. He had no doubt he would eventually figure out what they were, but for now, he would leave them untouched.

As he finished his exploring around the house, skipping the door that would lead to Abigail's and Thomas's bedroom, as he didn't want to go snooping too much, Alex was slowly beginning to realize that living with the Evergreens might not be what he was used to. It wasn't just the "chore wheel" he found in the laundry room that clued him in, but all the pictures that hung on the walls, showing Abigail and Thomas, along with various relatives and friends, smiling brightly. Alex could not really remember a time when everyone in the Rider household was cheerful.

After all, when he was first born, his mother must have been worried out of her mind about his father. When both of them died, and Ian was all alone with Alex, he couldn't have been overly cheerful. After all, his brother and sister-in-law were dead, and he was stuck with their orphan son. Things would have cheered up a bit when Jack came along, although most of the time she was worried about Ian and how little time he was spending with Alex (no matter how many skiing, snowboarding, or rock climbing trips his uncle took him on). And of course, after Ian's death, with MI6 recruiting him, and threatening Jack's visa, things weren't so cheerful.

It was obvious that the Evergreen's household was nothing _but_ cheerful.

Alex really hoped he could adapt.

* * *

**AN: (1): The movie about Sparta's battle with Persia. According to my brother, a very gory movie.**

**I really am sorry about not updating sooner... I've had quite a bit of drama going on that made it hard to find time to write. But I updated now! That counts for something, right?**

**I just read Scorpia Rising yesterday, the ending kind of blew me away, because I really wasn't expecting it. I'd love to have someone to discuss it with, so PM me... **

**Tell me what you think of the Evergreens and Steve! I NEED INPUT!**

**Pleading for input,**

**-Marie**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: *from behind rock* Uhhh... Hi there... Don't hurt me please... I've been really busy, and am taking a break from my NaNoWriMo to finish writing/posting this... In all fairness, it was an anonymous reviewer (Naloska) who reviewed and made me feel bad about not updating in a while, so here I am...updating... Now, I know this chapter is kind of filler, but we'll get to the exciting parts, okay? Okay. Here...we...go!**

**Disclaimer: My therapist is trying to help me deal with the fact that I don't own Alex Rider… He's got a lot of hard work cut out for him.**

**Shadows that Hide**

**Chapter 3**

**Blackmailing the Head of MI6**

* * *

Alex shoved the chicken and mashed potatoes into his mouth with a speed that would make a professional food-eater jealous.

Abigail stared at him in horror. "There's more if you like," she said "you don't have to eat it all in one go."

She was interrupted by her husband's moans of appreciation for the food. "If you ask me," he began after pausing briefly to lick his fingers, "the boy has got the right idea. This food is spectacular!"

Abigail rolled her eyes and began to eat her salad, which Alex noted, was barely even touched. "Men are pigs," she muttered under her breath while picking at the leafy substitute for what the men in her company were eating.

"SO THAT'S WHAT YOU MAKE YOUR BACON OUT OF!" Thomas shouted, leaping out of his seat with an accusatory finger pointed at his wife. "I ALWAYS KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE MADE OUT OF PIGS!"

Abigail laughed at her husband's antics, before turning a slight shade of green. She stood up suddenly, knocking back her salad and ran off, Alex assumed, to the bathroom.

"Wow… I didn't think the whole 'men are used for bacon' thing was that gross…" Alex commented, trying to fill the slightly awkward silence that had fallen upon the table.

Thomas snapped out of his daze. "Uhh… Yeah," he said unintelligently, "I guess she wasn't feeling well or something…"

Alex peered at his adoptive father. "Is everything okay?"

There was a long pause. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine…" Thomas finally said, not meeting Alex's eyes.

The teenager decided to drop the subject, obviously there was something going on, but it was really none of his business…

The dinner continued in an awkward fashion. All the conversations that were started ended after a few one-word replies. It seemed like Abigail, who didn't return to dinner, was the only one in the house who could keep conversation going in a steady manner.

After washing the dishes with Thomas, Alex went up to his room, where he lay down on the bed and thought about the day's events. He had moved in with his new family… They were nice, but they were obviously hiding something. The medicine bottles littered around the house and Abigail's behavior during dinner added up to Abigail being very sick… Alex was curious about what disease she had, but he didn't risk asking her, or Thomas… After all, he had just been adopted. They could still get rid of him.

He was still deep in thought when his phone rang, blasting out the first few bars of Beethoven's fifth symphony. Alex groaned as he recognized the tone that he had specially set. "Hello?" He said into the phone.

"Hello, Alex Rider? This is the Royal and General bank. We would like to talk to you about your uncle's account. Please come in tomorrow at 10 in the morning." A curt voice ordered in monotone. Alex wondered briefly if this was the same monotone voice as always, or if it was a different person after all.

"I'd really rather not." He answered briskly, trying to keep his tone cheerful. Which was hard considering all he really wanted was to strangle Blunt, and everyone else who worked at the Royal and General… Except for Smithers and Ben of course.

"We hate to inform you that your living situation is nearly as stable as you might imagine. We could take care of it for you, one way or another." The tone never changed, even as it delivered the threat.

Alex's eyes narrowed. He didn't want to respond to the threat, but really, what choice did he have? "I'll be there at 11."

"We would prefer 10."

"I'm a teenager. That's why you value me so much, right? Well, teenagers like to sleep. I'll see you at 11." Alex hung up, allowing himself a small smirk at his victory. It may have been a miniscule victory, but that was better than nothing, right?

"Wow. That was intense."

Alex whirled around to see Thomas standing in the doorway. He cursed inwardly. What kind of super-spy was he if he couldn't even detect when his adoptive father had entered his room? "How long have you been standing there?" He asked, wondering how much the man had heard.

"Not long. Just the part where you said you'd be there at 11, and then proceeded to tell them why." Thomas half-shrugged while grinning slightly at Alex. It was obvious to see that he was slightly amused by what he had heard.

"That's all?" Alex was slightly defensive, and tried to make sure the man hadn't overheard anything that could come back to haunt him.

"Yeah... But I've got a few questions." Thomas approached Alex, and sat down on his bed, while Alex tried to keep himself from cursing out loud.

"Fire away." The boy said, wincing slightly at the thought of lying to his new guardian. He knew he would have to, but it didn't mean he would like it.

"Who were you talking to?"

"My uncle's coworker... He worked at a bank, and so there are a lot of funds and stuff that need to be checked on frequently. Honestly, I don't really trust them to do it by themselves, so I check in every once in a while." Alex lied smoothly, trying to put as much truth in it as possible.

"You didn't really sound like you were happy to go there."

Alex snorted. "I _hate_ going there... I go as little as I possibly can. But sadly, it's a necessity. At least, if I want to keep all my funds."

Thomas nodded sagely. "Where's your uncle?"

Alex stiffened. "What?"

"Oh, well, you said that he worked at a bank, and I was just wondering where he was."

"He's dead."

Thomas's jaw dropped at the simple answer. "Oh... I'm... I'm very stupid aren't I?"

The teen snorted. "Just a little bit."

"Is that why you were at the Social Services place? I just thought it was because your uncle was out of the country or something..."

"Yeah, that's why... I have no living relatives, and my godfather is dead too, so I had to find a guardian if I didn't want to go into the system."

"That's..." Thomas paused to search for the right word. "awful!"

Alex shrugged. "I never really knew any of them... Except for my uncle. And my godfather, well, he's lucky he's dead."

The adult looked at him oddly. "Why?"

"Because if he wasn't dead, I'd kill him."

Thomas shuddered at the change in Alex. The charismatic teenager he had adopted suddenly closed off, and seemed to be as emotional as a brick wall. No, that was a lie. His face was blank, but his eyes were filled with malice, and Thomas was afraid of what the boy could do with that malice.

Suddenly, Alex glanced up at Thomas, all traces of the malice were gone and all that remained was worry. "I don't really know how to ask this, and I understand if you don't want to answer, but is Abigail sick?"

Thomas sighed, placing his head in his hands. "Yeah. She's really sick."

The teen bit his lip, not wanting to intrude on the privacy of his new "mom", but he really was curious. "Can I ask what she's sick from?"

"Stage four skin cancer."

Alex gaped, not knowing what to say.

"She has metastatic melanoma."

The blonde teen copied Thomas's position, placing his head in his hands. "We...er... We learned a bit of that in Health... That's when there are tumors in other places in her body, right?"

Thomas nodded. "Yeah. She... she has some in her brain."

Alex blanched. "In her brain?"

Once again, his "father" nodded. "And in her lungs and liver."

"Is there anything they can do?"

"There's a risky surgery, but we really can't afford it. She's going through oral chemo, and radiation, but it doesn't seem to be helping. Pretty soon, they're just going to cancel all the drugs, let her... let her go in peace." Thomas choked up at the end, obviously fighting back tears.

"How much is the surgery?"

"Around 40,000 pounds."

Alex swallowed painfully. There was much more than that in his uncle's accounts, but he (or anyone else), didn't have access until he turned 18. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." Thomas said simply, staring off into space.

An idea suddenly burst into Alex's mind with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop that was also filled with glass. It could work, but it depended on cooperation from Blunt, and that was a very far-fetched idea. "I can leave if you want." He said suddenly, without planning it. "If you want to spend more time with her..."

Thomas looked at him in surprise. "Abigail was the one who wanted to adopt you... She always wanted a family, and wanted to have a bit of one before she... Leaving won't do anything."

Alex sighed. Nothing could have prepared him for the sudden sadness that he felt. He barely knew Abigail, but she was his "mother", at least, legally. There was nothing more saddening than to see a young person's dreams ripped apart.

It was a novel experience for Alex to know ahead of time that someone was going to die. On one hand, it gave him time to steel himself emotionally, on the other, it was much more miserable to see them day in and day out, and know all the while that every day could be the last.

He bit his lip regretfully. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"No," Thomas said, "it's okay. You were curious, and you deserved to know."

They sat there in silence for a while, neither speaking for fear of disturbing the other. Thomas was the one to break the silence. "Oh, Abigail wanted to know if you wanted to have a movie night. You know, popcorn, sweets, a good movie…"

Alex grinned. "Sounds good."

Thomas returned the smile. "Be downstairs in ten minutes." He patted Alex's knee and stood up, walking out of the door before registering Alex's shocked expression at the purely paternal gesture.

He really had no choice now.

* * *

The next day, at 10, Alex walked through the doors of the Royal and General.

He marched up to Blunt's office, ignoring the receptionists and secretaries as much as they ignored him. He slammed the door open, causing Blunt, who was sitting at his desk, to look up at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I was under the impression you were coming at 11." The expressionless man said, well, expressionlessly.

"That was the right impression. But I need a favor." Alex said, lifting his chin up in pride, in contrast to the humbling he would have to go through soon.

"We help those who help us." Blunt paused, looking at Alex carefully. "You _are_ one of those people, aren't you?"

"Listen Blunt." Alex said, clenching his fist so he wouldn't swing it at his 'boss'. "I deserve reimbursement for the missions I have taken on. I need at least 10,000 pounds per mission."

Blunt raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused. Almost. "And why would I agree to that?"

"Because," Alex said, grinning. "I have video evidence of you blackmailing me, and not paying me."

Blunt smirked. "I'm the head of MI6. Do you really think I can't deal with a little bad press?"

"You can. But the Prime Minister can't. He knows about me, and I have video evidence of that too. I won't go to the newspapers; I'll go to _him_. Who do you think he'll pick, himself or _you_?"

Alan Blunt didn't show any emotion, but to a trained spy, it was obvious he was tense. Obviously, he knew that he had created a monster. "I could have you killed. Right here, right now."

Alex shrugged. "I left the videos with a friend. If I don't tell him I'm alive within a certain amount of time, he'll mail it to the presses."

"I can still get out of it."

"It'll be hard."

"You play a good game. I'll pay you."

Alex had to work to hide a surprised grin.

But Blunt continued on. "I'll pay you if you take care of a little _situation_ for us."

"If I die, the money goes to my adoptive family. Plus another 10,000 pounds for the current mission."

"Deal." Blunt smiled, in a way that a cat would smile after it had clawed down a bird from the sky. "I'm so glad we worked this out in a civilized manner."

"Me too." Alex answered in a monotone, wondering for a moment if he should attempt a smile, but then ditching the idea.

Blunt slid a file over to Alex over the cold steel desk. "You'll be shipped off to Paraguay in three days. Your name is Ryan White."

The teen nodded and picked up the file. He knew the drill by now. No more words were said as Alex turned on his heel and walked out the door. At least 80,000 pounds richer (in theory), and with the promise of 10,000 more. Abigail would have her surgery. He would make sure of that.

* * *

Alex came home that day in somewhat of a neutral mood. It wasn't that he wasn't feeling anything. It wasn't that at all! It was just that supreme elation at the reality that he could help his adoptive mom mixed with the supreme depression that came with knowing that soon, he would have to go on another mission. All the positive and negative mixed together came out completely neutral, leaving him feeling expressionless.

Thomas was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper.

"What's in the news?" Alex asked, stealing some toast from his "father's" plate.

Thomas shrugged. "Honestly, I just filched this from the Tube. Some guy sitting next to me was reading it and he left it, so I took it." **(1)**

"And you haven't been reading?"

"I've been trying to."

Alex grinned, snatching another piece of toast. "What, are you dyslexic or something?"

Thomas didn't laugh. "I've just been… thinking… a lot."

Alex's grin disappeared. He wondered briefly if he should say anything about his upcoming mission, and then decided it was probably a good idea. He picked at the piece of toast he had just stolen, tearing off chunks of it, but not actually eating any of it. "Er… About that. I have a way to get the money."

His adoptive father jerked his head towards him before laughing softly. "Ha. Good one kid. For the record, those jokes aren't really funny."

"I'm not joking."

Thomas frowned. "Oh, and I suppose you're secretly a billionaire?"

"No, nothing like that. But I promise you; all I have to do is do a favor for a friend, and we'll have enough money for her operation."

"And I'm supposed to believe this favor is legal?"

"I swear," Alex said, "there is absolutely no chance I will get arrested doing this." He avoided the 'legal' part of the question because, well, it wasn't legal. MI6 was breaking the law, even though this time, he volunteered.

Thomas peered into Alex's eyes, as if searching for something he wasn't sure was there. "I believe you. I believe you believe in what you just said, but I won't really believe you until I see the money myself."

"That's only fair…"

They sat in silence until Abigail made her way downstairs. "Damn chemo always makes me sleep in…" She muttered under her breath while reaching for a cup to pour her tea in. Suddenly, she whirled around, staring at Alex in horror.

A tense moment went by. The tension in the kitchen was so thick; you couldn't cut it with anything… Least of all a butter knife. Perhaps a specialty knife edged with diamond could do it, but nothing short of one of Smither's gadgets even had a hope.

Alex looked down at the ground, not wanting to confirm to Abigail that he knew, but not wanting to lie about it either.

The brunette whirled around to glare at her husband. "You told him, didn't you?"

He looked down sheepishly. "Sorry, honey."

"Oh, you will be." She glared. "You will be." Abigail turned back to Alex, leaving him a bit anxious on whether or not she would be angry at him. "As for you…" Alex gulped. "I don't mind that you know. It actually makes things easier."

Alex had to swallow his sigh of relief.

"But if I catch you _ever_ pitying me, you're sleeping on the couch!"

The teen frowned. "Isn't that only a punishment for your husband?"

"It works well on teens too."

Alex shrugged. "Oh, well. The television is in the living room, with the couch… I'm sure I'll be fine."

Abigail frowned. "Seriously. I don't want you pitying me."

The blonde teen looked up at her and flashed her a smile. "Only if you extend me the same favor."

There was no time, at the moment, for Thomas to ponder exactly what he meant by that. But later, it would cause more than a few questions…

* * *

**(1) At the time of writing this line, I was in London, and riding the Tube every day. :D People really do leave newspapers on there… PS: MIND THE GAP**

**Okay, I can't promise that I'll update very soon, since I'm very busy with school and all... And even though my social life is endangered, it has not yet gone extinct, so I'm going to work to keep it alive. Thanks so much to all of you for reviewing, alerting, and putting up with me. You guys are the best.**

**Oh, and do you want me to kill off Abigail or not? I could go either way...**

**Thanks for not killing me...**

**-Marie**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Please don't kill me... I have excuses I swear! **

**And now, to the story... (Sorry it's so short, I wanted to get it up as fast as I could.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, no matter how much I wish I did.**

* * *

"I'm leaving in three days." Alex informed Thomas quietly as they sat on the couch watching some romantic comedy that Abigail had picked on television as she cooked dinner.

"What? Why? Where?" His adoptive fatter stuttered out, turning to face the teen.

Alex fought the urge to shrug, but the inner teen inside of him overpowered his maturity and the movement came through anyways. "It's to do that favor for a friend… To get the money for Abigail's operation."

"But... do you really have to leave to do that?"

"It's not exactly something I can do here..." Alex admitted, biting his lip and staring straight ahead at the television, refusing to meet Thomas's eyes.

"You said it wasn't anything illegal." Thomas accused him.

"It's not... I just can't accomplish it in the UK."

Thomas nearly leaped to his feet. "You're _leaving_ the UK?"

Alex flinched, he hadn't wanted to give that much information away. "Just for a few weeks... A month at most." Or, you know, he wouldn't come back at all, but he had the feeling that telling Thomas that would be just a bit short of suicide.

"A _month_?"

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ, Alex, you can't expect me to let you do this."

"No offense, Thomas, but you've been my adoptive parent for less than a week... You don't exactly get too much of a say in what I do or don't do."

"What about school?"

"What about it? I managed to graduate early, and I already took my GCSE's."

"What about A-Levels?"

Alex shrugged. "I have some connections at a university... I can get in without them." **(1)**

"But you're... You can't leave the country!"

"I'm fairly sure there's a little piece of paper that says that I can... Oh, yes. My _passport_."

Thomas groaned and dropped his head into his hands, knowing that he was losing the fight. "Alex, whatever you're doing, you can't possibly hope to get enough for Abigail's operation... It just can't happen."

"It can and it will..." Alex clenched his jaw for a moment before jumping on the opportunity to change the subject. "By the way, shouldn't the health insurance cover the cost of the surgery?"

He sighed. "No, the surgery would take place in the United States, at Johns Hopkins university in Baltimore... The insurance doesn't cover highly experimental surgeries in other countries."

"All right, I understand..."

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Alex once again needed to say something, to prepare Thomas for his absence. "While I'm gone, I won't exactly be able to stay in contact."

"What?"

"Well, it's usually not too easy to get access to a computer for email or to a phone to call..."

"Usually? And just what is this job? Are you bloody shipping in drugs from Colombia?"

Alex sighed. "Look, I'm not going to go into this with you again... It's nothing illegal, and yes, I've done it before. Just calm down Thomas."

Thomas frantically gestured with his hands exasperatedly but said nothing. Just then, Abigail called out to them to come and eat dinner. For the most part, the dinner was pleasant, as Alex avoided the topic of the job he needed to do, and for the most part, they all avoided the subject of Abigail's illness. It was toward the end of the meal that Alex realized he hadn't asked one of the most important things he needed to know. "Hey, just a quick question... Is it alright if one of my mates comes over for a bit tomorrow? I'm not quite sure how things work around here, but he really needs to get out of his house..."

"Yeah, of course!" Abigail beamed. "I'd love to meet one of your friends! What's his name?"

"His name is Tom, but don't get too excited about meeting him, he's quite possibly the most hyper and annoying bloke I've ever known." Alex grinned while picking at his peas.

Thomas smirked. "As long as he doesn't wreck my xbox, he's welcome anytime."

"Great." Alex said, and he meant it.

* * *

"Wait, let me get this straight... So, you're going _voluntarily_?"

"Yes."

"And Blunt didn't blackmail you into this at _all_?"

Alex was about to reply before he caught himself. "Not exactly blackmail..."

Tom scoffed loudly from his lying position on Alex's bed. "Then what? He didn't _bribe _you, did he?" When Alex didn't answer, he sat up. "You're joking. He _bribed_ you? I thought you didn't get paid for any of this?"

"I kind of... demanded payment by blackmailing him." Alex spoke nonchalantly, examining the carpet which he was sitting on very carefully. There was a sort of pattern to the creamy-tan color that he found himself getting absorbed by.

"You blackmailed _Blunt_?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Alex shrugged. "I might have said that I have footage of him blackmailing me and forcing me to go on… Well, you know… And I said that if he didn't pay me, I'd leak the footage, and he agreed, with the only condition being that I go on another mission."

"You blackmailed Blunt." Tom said, as if in shock.

"Yes."

"That makes you _such_ a badass!"

"What? Why?"

Tom bounced excitedly on the bed, beaming all the while. You _blackmailed_ the head of MI6!"

"Yes, I understand that…" Alex raised an eyebrow waiting for his friend to continue.

"Well, that makes you a badass! What other teenager has blackmailed the head of MI6?"

"I dunno, what other teenager has been to outer space or disarmed a nuclear bomb?"

Tom pouted slightly. "Buzzkill."

The boys sat in silence for a moment before Tom spoke once more. "So how's it going with the new adoptive family?"

"They're kind of the reason I'm going on the mission."

"What, are they in debt? That's kind of a bad time to adopt a kid, isn't it?"

"No, uh… Abigail, my adoptive mother has metastatic melanoma, and there's this experimental surgery in the US that could help her, but it's really expensive."

Tom nodded slowly before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alex, you need to learn to stop being so selfless. Seriously."

The spy gaped at his friend. "What? Am I supposed to just let her _die_?"

"Of course not! But… You could _die_."

"In which case all the money would still go to them. I've thought of all of this."

Tom stared at his best friend for a very long moment. "Aren't you afraid of dying?"

Alex took a deep breath, and stared at the ceiling while answering slowly. "You know, I'm not really sure… I mean, it can't be too bad being the one dying… Being the one left behind has got to be much worse."

"So, you're not afraid of dying, you're afraid of everyone else dying." Tom summarized neatly, leaning back against the wall while still being seated on Alex's bed.

"Basically."

"What if you do die, though? Would you want me to tell people what you did? To get Blunt fired or something? Maybe take your ashes and scatter them over Mt. Everest?"

"If I die, don't do anything drastic… But make sure to use all the documents and proof I have of MI6 to make sure that they don't bother you. Trust me, you don't want to get caught up in any of it… And as for my body, just bury me next to Mum, Dad and Ian."

Tom frowned. "I sure hope you don't die, mate…"

Alex gave out a startled laugh. "Same here."

* * *

"So, do you have everything you need?" Abigail asked once more, fussing over Alex almost irritatingly, but it was a bit endearing as well.

"Yes, Abigail. For the millionth time I have everything."

The woman frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, I'm sorry… You brought up this school trip on such short notice, how was I supposed to arrange everything for you so quickly?"

Alex grinned sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes. "Young men these days… They have absolutely no respect for their elders!"

Thomas frowned from his seated position at the kitchen table. "Are you calling me old?"

"Well, compared to me, you _are_ fairly ancient…" Alex joked, gesturing to himself and then looking at his adoptive father apologetically.

Abigail smacked him on the shoulder, though she was hiding a smirk. "That's no way to talk to Thomas, and you know it! Now, apologize."

"I'm sorry Thomas…" Alex muttered, though his eyes twinkled with laughter, a sharp contrast to Thomas's eyes, which seemed to be plagued with almost as many shadows as Jack's once were.

"I'm going to go powder my nose for a second." Abigail suddenly excused herself, before rushing off, hurrying out of the kitchen so quickly she seemed to leave a dust cloud behind her. She did not, however, run off fast enough for them not to notice the green pallor on her skin. Thomas and Alex stared off after her, both worried, while Alex also had the feeling of conviction that no matter what happened, he was doing the right thing.

"You'll take care of her, right?" The blonde asked his adoptive father, who looked at him as though he was insane.

"I've been taking care of her long before you have. We'll be fine. Now, you on the other hand…"

Alex grinned widely, but a little uneasily. "I can take care of myself, Thomas."

"I don't doubt that… But please don't get into any trouble, no matter what this little…errand…of yours is. We need you, Alex. Especially Abigail, and especially now…"

The teenager opened his mouth to reassure Thomas, but his adoptive father interrupted him.

"You know what? Maybe you shouldn't go anywhere… I mean, the surgery might not even do anything, and even if it does, I'm sure I can somehow gather up enough money…"

"Thomas." Alex waited for his adoptive father's eyes to meet his own. "I will be fine. And when I come back with the money, Abigail will be too. This is the only way, and I promise everything will go fine."

Thomas furrowed his brow for a moment, and Alex waited for him to reply before he was suddenly swept up into a tight hug. Alex was stiff for a moment, not used to such displays of affection from Thomas (it was Abigail that usually threw hugs and kisses around), but he soon relaxed into the hug and even hugged Thomas back.

"I'll be fine. I swear." Alex knew it had to be said, but for a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he was lying.

* * *

The next two weeks passed intolerably slowly for Thomas.

The lie he and Alex had concocted together to keep Abigail happy had provided fairly well for cover, with Abigail believing that Alex had gone on a school trip to climb some mountain or another (for the life of him, Thomas couldn't remember), and so Alex obviously couldn't be in contact. There was also the small issue of not knowing how long it would take, therefore explaining why there was no set 'returning' date.

Despite only having Alex around for a week or so, the house felt horribly empty with him gone. They had settled into a sort of routine, the three of them, and the absence of the youngest member of that routine threw the two adults off a bit.

Abigail was coping much better than Thomas though, since (not only did she have more to worry about, what with the poisonous chemicals being let loose in her body in hopes of killing off mutated cells that could end up killing her) she didn't actually know what Alex was getting himself into.

Of course, Thomas didn't exactly know either, but the constant 'what if's' were plaguing his mind on an epic scale. What if Alex was part of the mafia? It could explain his dead banker uncle, and the rest of his dead family… Or perhaps he was part of a drug cartel? Maybe even he was an _assassin_! Thomas had noticed that the teenager was quiet, and was particularly silent on his feet… But… Alex had promised him that what he was doing wasn't illegal, and that he would be just fine doing it.

Speculation was never a good thing, and so he resolved to just force Alex to tell him when he returned.

So, on the fourteenth day of Alex being gone, Thomas awoke to an empty bed, a note from Abigail telling him she had gone out shopping with friends, and to the ringing of the doorbell.

He stumbled groggily down the stairs to the door and opened it while rubbing his eyes.

At the door stood four, very big, _very_ well-built men. The most muscular of them was glaring slightly at him, another one looked apologetic, one just looked tired, and the last, the closest to the door just looked sheepish.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the men, avoiding catching the muscular one's eye. "Good morning… Can I help you?"

The sheepish one cleared his throat. "Ah… Yes. Is Alex Rider home?"

* * *

**(1): So, I have absolutely no clue if any of this is accurate since I am American, and our educational system is completely different… If I've messed up anything here, just mention it in a review and I'll do my best to fix it.**

**Ahem. Yes, that is K-Unit. Yes, they are looking for Alex. Yes, this chapter was a filler, short, and more than a little awful. The next chapter should be more exciting, and hopefully up sooner than this one was.**

**Sorry once more.**

**Oh, and one last thing. I've gotten fairly mixed reviews about Abigail... Should she live?**

**Thanks,**

**-Marie**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh, hey there. Um. So, I don't actually have an excuse for being so late. Well, I do, but none that you want to hear. **

**Credit for me finally finishing this chapter up goes to the amazing BatFink, who sent me a very nice PM that made me feel like an awful human being for not updating this for over a year. **

**(Sorry about that).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider at all in any way.**

**(PS: A bunch of the formatting got messed up here, so if there's a large space instead of a horizontal line I'm sorry, but FF decided that it was going to be annoying for me today)**

* * *

**QUICK SUMMARY OF WHAT'S HAPPENED SO FAR SINCE IT'S BEEN A YEAR:**

**Alex was adopted by a couple named Thomas and Abigail Evergreen since he couldn't get emancipated. MI6 decided that if he had a family, he could be manipulated, and so they refused to let him live alone and allowed the adoption to go through. Alex grew fond of his new parents, and learned that Abigail had a very late stage of cancer. She had been offered an experimental surgery in the United States, but it wouldn't be covered by the healthcare system. Thomas and Abigail couldn't afford it, so Alex went to Blunt and agreed to go on another mission if he would be paid for that mission and his past ones. He gave Thomas a shady excuse about a job and left, telling Abigail that he was going on a school trip.**

* * *

**Last Chapter:**

So,_ on the fourteenth day of Alex being gone, Thomas awoke to an empty bed, a note from Abigail telling him she had gone out shopping with friends, and to the ringing of the doorbell._

_He stumbled groggily down the stairs to the door and opened it while rubbing his eyes. _

_At the door stood four, very big, very well-built men. The most muscular of them was glaring slightly at him, another one looked apologetic, one just looked tired, and the last, the closest to the door just looked sheepish._

_Thomas raised an eyebrow at the men, avoiding catching the muscular one's eye. "Good morning… Can I help you?"_

_The sheepish one cleared his throat. "Ah… Yes. Is Alex Rider home?"_

* * *

"No, he erm…" Thomas cleared his throat as well. "He's not."

The man nodded, and rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. "Do you have any idea of when he'll be back? We've got a bit of a matter to discuss with him."

"Is he involved in a gang or something?" Thomas blurted out, and all four of the men's eyes suddenly widened.

The most muscular out of the lot of them, the one who had been glaring at Thomas, spoke suddenly. "A gang?"

"I've known him for all of a week or two when he suddenly runs off, and then four very large men appear at my door, asking for him… What am I supposed to think?"

The apologetic one looked very surprised for a moment. "You've only known him for… For a week?"

The sheepish one looked pained for a moment. "Right, I'd forgotten he'd just been adopted. Sorry for bothering you, but erm, you will tell us if he comes back, will you?"

"How could I?" Thomas spoke coldly, as he had realized that they hadn't replied to his suspicions of a gang. "I don't have your contact information."

"Oh, right." The sheepish one chuckled awkwardly before patting down his pockets and pulling out his wallet, and from that wallet, a business card. "My name's Ben Daniels, I worked with Alex's uncle…"

"You're a banker?" Thomas asked before glancing down at the card.

"Yep. Royal and General." Mr. Daniels answered promptly, looking honest. However, the three (very well built) men right behind him absolutely refused to look at Thomas after the statement was uttered, and this alone left Thomas suspicious.

"I see. Well, when Alex gets back from his little trip, I'll be sure to give you a call. May I ask _why_ you wish to speak to Alex?"

Ben shrugged. "He usually stays in contact with me, even when he goes on his little trips… He texted me last night and said he was back, but nothing else, so I wanted to see if he was okay."

"And you brought your little entourage with you?" Thomas smelt something fishy in the air, there was something odd going on… (Not to mention the fact that Alex had not, in fact, returned the previous night).

"They're co-workers of mine, and they were worried about him too. Look, I've got to get going. When he comes back, just give me a call." Mr. Daniels spoke quickly and firmly before he and the other men turned and walked away.

"Something's just not right here…" Thomas muttered to himself before closing the door.

"I agree." A voice spoke behind him, and Thomas whirled around, wide-eyed, to find a very weary looking Alex with dark circles under his eyes, a black eye, a long scratch down his neck, and a busted lip.

"Alex!" He shouted, pressing a hand to his heart as it beat uncontrollably. "Where'd you come from?"

"I heard you talking to Ben and the gang, and so I snuck in through the back." Alex said, smiling slightly. It was then that Thomas realized that he was leaning heavily onto the wall.

"Why? When'd you get back? What happened? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Thomas fired off, rushing to Alex to pull him into a firm but gentle bear hug.

"I did it because I didn't exactly want to talk to them right now, I got back last night, I got a little beat up by some guys where I went but I'm fine and I don't need to go to the hospital." Alex grinned widely at Thomas as he pulled away from the hug. His adoptive father, however, was scowling as he examined the injuries on Alex's face.

"If you got back last night, why are you only here now?"

"Well, I didn't want to disturb you or Abigail, so I just spent the night at a friend of my father's…"

"You said that your father died when you were too young to remember him."

"I did."

"And his friends still stayed in contact?"

"No, this one only got into contact a little while ago… I just stayed with him because it was closer to the airport than your house, and I wasn't in any condition for a long ride on the Tube." Alex answered evasively. "Where's Abigail, is she okay?"

"She's out shopping with friends… Damn, Alex, what the hell were you doing that you got beat up so badly?" Thomas examined Alex with a critical eye, determined to not miss a single thing.

"It was completely unrelated to my job, just a random occurrence, and _yes_, the perpetrators were arrested, so don't worry." He managed a weak smile, while Thomas looked on, unimpressed.

"I'm going to call Abigail, she'd want to know you're home." Thomas said, grinning at Alex while digging his phone out of his pocket.

"While you're at it, you might as well tell her that she's getting that surgery." Alex spoke nonchalantly, walking to the fridge in the kitchen and pulling out a soda can, popping it open and guzzling half of it down before his adoptive father could think of a reaction.

"How the hell did you manage to come up with 40,000 pounds?" Thomas said, phone still halfway up to his ear.

Alex shrugged, not wanting to mention the fact that it was more like 110,000 pounds. "I told you, my job pays well." **(1)**

"No job pays _that _well without being illegal, Alex!" Thomas shouted, tossing his phone onto the couch frustratedly.

"Mine does." Alex stated simply with a wry quirk of his lips, taking a sip of the soda.

"Alexander John Rider, you _will_ tell me what exactly you've been doing for the last few weeks, or so help me—,"

The teenager set down his can carefully, though his eyes blazed with anger. "Or _what?_ You've been my guardian for less than two months. What could possibly give you the right to demand _anything_ from me? Oh, and congratulations on memorizing my full name. Really, bra-_vo._"

"Look, Alex, I don't want to get into a fight on your first day home, just tell me where the money came from—," Thomas was cut off once more.

"Look, Thomas, I've told you repeatedly that the money was obtained through legal means. If you can't trust me on that, I don't think I can remain here." Alex's voice was no longer angry, but merely cold and calm, in a way that sent a shiver down Thomas's spine.

Thomas gaped. How had things escalated so quickly? "Alex, please, just sit down, I know we can work this out," he begged his adopted son, sitting down on the couch himself and gesturing to the spot next to him in what he hoped was an appealing fashion.

Alex opened his mouth, but thought better of it and sat down on the couch, though in the farthest possible spot from Thomas, which hurt the man a little.

"Please, Alex, I just want to understand what your job is. If nothing else, I want to know why you're so injured right now."

The teenager gave a short laugh on the word 'injured', which worried Thomas to no end, but before he could dwell on it, Alex began to speak. "I'm not going to tell you a thing about what I was doing. That's it. Please don't beg me, or be suspicious of me or anything, because I can promise you that this last time was absolutely the last job I ever do in that line of work. Not because it's illegal, but because I don't enjoy it at all. It doesn't hold any pleasant memories for me, so I don't want to discuss it at all, and I really need you to just respect that."

Thomas took a deep breath before sighing and nodding. "If that's what you need, then I'll respect it. Now go upstairs, take a shower and then come downstairs to eat. You look like crap."

The teenager laughed and his face instantly looked ten times brighter from the expression. "I can't disagree with you there!" Then, his eyes grew serious once more. "But, seriously, thank you."

"Of course."

* * *

Abigail was beside herself when she returned from her day out and saw that Alex had returned. She grabbed into a hug and refused to let him go. Alex didn't even try to escape the embrace, though with the frail, shaking arms about him he could have done so without any sort of problem.

She immediately began to cook a huge dinner with steak, some type of casserole with noodles and a lot of vegetables (since Alex was "still a growing boy and couldn't afford to eat nothing but junk). Alex would have protested this treatment, but considering the fact that he had been captured and starved for a little under a week during his mission, he was quite content with the large amount of food.

Abigail, finishing up dinner, yelled at Thomas to set up the table, while insisting that Alex relaxed and watched some television. Alex had just found some type of show about spies from the CIA when the door-bell rang once more.

"Hm, that's odd…" Abigail remarked as she carried out a large, steaming casserole. "Are we expecting anyone?"

Thomas and Alex shook their heads, though the two exchanged a quick look before Alex jumped up from the couch. "I'll see who it is," he muttered as he walked quickly to the door.

"I'll… go with him." Thomas mumbled before running after his adoptive son.

Alex swung open the door to reveal the same four men from earlier in the day. His face instantly went blank, though he didn't seem at all surprised. Thomas merely stood back, feeling a bit uneasy.

"So you _are_ back." The man who had introduced himself as Ben Daniels remarked with a small grin.

"Evidently so," Alex nodded with a small, polite smile that was too bitter to be genuine. "Any reason why you're here, Ben?"

"Just wanted to check on you," Ben answered, eyes flickering over to Thomas before flicking back to the teenager. "Any chance we can talk without your new guardian?"

"No. We're about to eat dinner." Alex answered shortly.

The other three men (who all looked fairly uncomfortable at this point, and the most muscular of them was observing the rose bush next to him with an interest that could not have possibly been genuine) winced a bit at his tone, but said nothing.

"Mrs. Jones sent us." Ben attempted, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't care if the Prime Minister sent you." The teenager said plainly while Thomas fought not to slam the door and drag his new adoptive son away from the tense situation.

Ben sighed loudly. "Alex, please be reasonable -"

"Believe me, Ben, this is by far the best choice I'm made in a very long time." Alex remarked before nodding at the group and slamming the door shut, locking it before Thomas could say anything. The teenager sucked in a deep breath before turning and flashing an overly bright smile at Thomas, "Ready for dinner?"

* * *

After dinner, Abigail felt a little bit queasy and (after giving Alex another huge, suffocating hug), went to go lie down for a little bit, leaving Thomas free to interrogate his adoptive son.

"Sit down."

Alex peered at him suspiciously, but did as he said.

"I know I said just earlier that I wouldn't interrogate you, but… But I need to know who those men were. Just for my own peace of mind. Because having four very muscular men who are probably all armed—"

"Where'd you get the whole armed thing?" Alex interrupted, his expression a mix of things that Thomas couldn't read.

"My uncle is an American, and likes carrying a pistol everywhere. Whenever we went to visit him, he would give us a lesson on guns, and how to spot if someone was carrying one…" Thomas paused. "Well, that, and the fact that when Ben turned around, his coat billowed out some and I could see his gun."

Alex muttered something under his breath and then sighed. "Okay, so, you're kind of right. I don't actually know what Ben was doing with a gun, but the other three are in the SAS. They worked with my dad a little, and they all knew each other from uni or something. I messaged Ben that I was home, and I guess they were all together and that's why they were at the door."

"What do they have to do with your job though? Because I know Ben has something to do with it."

"Where'd you get that?"

"Please don't think me an idiot, Alex."

The teenager sighed. "Sorry, I don't… Could you just take me on my word that I'm not doing anything illegal at all? And that the four of those men don't have anything to do with it?"

Thomas thought for a minute, but gave in and nodded, resulting in a large grin spreading across Alex's face.

The sight of his adopted son being happy caused him to grin as well, and he didn't for a minute regret his promise to Alex.

* * *

"Wait, what do you mean I'm getting the surgery?" Abigail demanded, staring at both Thomas and Alex.

"What we said. You're getting the surgery." Thomas grinned at her, enjoying the startled look on her face.

"But… it's too expensive, we can't afford it!"

"Actually, my parents were pretty wealthy, and they left some money for me. What better thing is there to spend it on?" Alex lied smoothly, grinning charmingly at his adoptive mother.

Abigail began to protest, but Thomas shut her up quickly.

"If Alex wants to spend _his_ money on a surgery that will make you better, let him. We want the best for you, Abigail."

Alex grinned cheerily at her and she sighed and finally gave in. They were going to America!

* * *

"I bloody hate America." Alex muttered as they finally got off of the plane and stepped into the terminal of the Baltimore-Washington International Airport. He was used to long plane rides with his "job", but that didn't mean they got any less aggravating. The only thing different with this one was the novel experience of having someone fuss over him.

Abigail had offered him one book, and then another, and then some snacks she had packed. Every thirty minutes she would ask him if he was feeling airsick, and if he wanted to chew some gum or suck on some candy. He had been offered painkillers, a blanket, a sweatshirt, and even Thomas's sweatshirt (which Thomas had protested, but Abigail had shut him up with a fierce glance).

The thought that someone cared about his comfort on a plane ride made him feel warm. No one had ever really done that. Ian had always made sure that he had a book, but that was it. Alex didn't know why the experience had affected him so, but he suddenly became very glad that he had gone to Blunt to demand the money, and that he had gone on the mission that Blunt had presented. Abigail deserved to live her life much more than anyone he had ever met.

"You don't hate America, you just hate plane rides!" Abigail chirped, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to baggage claim. Her grip was weak, but Alex didn't even think about escaping it.

"Do you see our luggage, Thomas?" She asked, grinning in a way that made it seem as though they hadn't been cooped up in a plane for over ten hours.

"No, I don't." Thomas grumbled, the bags under his eyes showing the aftereffects of having a toddler sitting right behind him. The little brat had kicked his seat for hours during the night. Alex had had sympathy for the man, but not enough to change seats with him.

Suddenly, Abigail pointed excitedly. "Isn't that one of ours, over there?"

"I'll go get it," Alex volunteered, and moved quickly through the crowd to grab the large red suitcase. He wrapped a hand around the handle and tugged quickly, managing to get it off the large conveyor belt that had all the bags going round and round. Feeling a small amount of pride for the easy grab, he began to walk off and ran right into someone. "Oh!" He exclaimed in surprise. "Excuse me!" And then he saw the woman's face.

He flashed a small smile to hide his expression of surprise, and was glad to see her looking distracted with no amount of recognition on her face. Before she could look too closely at him, he walked quickly back toward Thomas and Abigail, wheeling the large suitcase behind him while he swung his small, carry-on backpack and pulled out a cap, jamming it onto his head.

While he walked, he glanced through the crowd and was alarmed to find several familiar faces. Each one made him pick up his pace slightly.

Once he reached his adoptive parents, Alex let the suitcase drop at his feet and whipped out his cell phone, dialing a number that he had never thought he would use. He ignored the curious and worried looks of Thomas and Abigail, and walked a few steps away to ensure that he had a small amount of privacy (though real privacy was impossible in a crowded airport such as this one).

He tapped his foot impatiently while he waited for the man to pick up.

"Hello? Who is this?" A deep voice demanded.

"Mr. Byrne, this is Alex Rider. I'm sorry to contact you on such short notice, but I'm at Baltimore-Washington International Airport and there's a problem."

"Alex? Please, call me Joe. What's going on?"

Alex took a deep breath. "Joe, I've spotted at least six different Scorpia operatives here. I don't want to alarm you or anything, but I'm pretty sure that can't be anything good."

There was a deep inhale of breath on the other side of the line. "Alex, are you sure about this?"

"Yes, I am. I know we thought Scorpia was disbanded, but either they didn't, or there's a new group with the old members. Either way, there's cause for alarm." He realized suddenly that Thomas and Abigail were standing close enough to him to hear him, and sent them a weak smile in return. He'd have to find a good lie to get out of this one.

Alex heard the head of the CIA shout something and give out instructions to someone. Though he could not tell what was being said, the sound of Byrne taking action relaxed Alex a bit. "Alex, are you still there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know the names or aliases of any of the operatives?"

"Yes, sir. I knew one woman as Tanya Ridanaya, that's R-i-d-a-n-a-y-a, codename Venom. Another woman I knew as Wei Lee, that's W-e-I L-e-e, codename Longshot. The others I just knew by their codenames, Colonel, Paroxy, Pyro, and Splendant. I don't want to alarm you too much, but the five out of those six specialized in explosives."

"Okay, we've got hits from Interpol, they used aliases to get through security. I've sent out a few team from the FBI and a team of my operatives. My guys will come to you and I need you to tell them where they can apprehend the Scorpia operatives."

"Joe, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but you should know that I'm not here alone. I'm with my adoptive parents."

"Oh. Do they…"

"No, they don't know." Thomas gave Alex a suspicious look while Abigail merely looked frightened and confused. Alex flinched and turned away to look at the crowd and keep track of as many of the Scorpia operatives as he could.

"I'll give them copies of the Act to sign when we take you guys in… Have you been recognized?"

"Somehow, no. I think their training has gone lax. They didn't seem to spot me."

"Okay, my guys are there. There's a familiar face in the group. Call me if you get any more information."

"Okay, thanks Joe."

"No, Alex. Thank you."

Alex hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He pretended not to feel the gazes of his adoptive parents burning into the back of his head as he kept his eyes on the Scorpia operatives, and waited for a "familiar face" to show up.

* * *

**(1**): **So, the missions I counted were: Stormbreaker, Point Blank, the Wimbledon mission at the beginning of Skeleton Key, Skeleton Key, Eagle Strike, Scorpia, Angel Ark, Snakehead, Crocodile Tears, Scorpia Rising, and the newest mission which he just returned from in this chapter.**

**AN: So, once again, I apologize for the long wait. If you're still reading this story: thank you. If not, well, then you'll never get this message. **

**Last chance: should Abigail live?**

**Thanks for reading,**

**-Marie**


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